Second Chance (2 page)

I take another hit from the inch of joint
I have
left and suck until the warmth of the burning paper teases my lips
.
I miss that heat
.
It feels like a kiss
.

Francisco or Alfredo
is
probably kissing
Dylan
right now
on
a
p
iazza
that overlooks his forty acre
family
vineyard or his private beach front property along the
Aegean Sea
.
I can see their future as plain as a
Europe
an
honeymoon brochure
:
He proposes
to her on top of the Spanish Steps in Rome
.
They marry
on a yacht
while the
sun
set
s
below
the
Mediterranean
.
Something
incredibly
lame
and romantic
like that
.
Lamesauce
, as Amanda and
I used to call it
.
All I know
is
the
European-
l
ove-
a
ffair
would explain
how
Dylan
has
so easily forgotten
to
call her boring old
American boyfriend
.
No se
xy
accent
.
No exotic past
.
I love to
grill out, play baseball
,
and quote
Ron Burgu
ndy
.
That’s my
idea of culture
.

Angry would
be one word to describe my current
state of
mind
.
It’s part of the getting-o
ver-your-ex grieving process
.
It begins with
heartbreak, f
ollowed closely by
denial
.
Then comes a
little resentment
.
Loath
ing
.
Mega-loath
ing
.
At last
,
anger sets in
,
and it fuels you to do what I’ve
finally
done
:
Throw yourself a pity party, get stoned for
four
months and move the hell on
.
It’s h
ealthy
, organic
rehab
for only $
99
a month
, brought to you by Mexico
.
Pot
has
become my new best friend
.
It’s a
natural sleep aid
and
a
much appreciated
brain
-
numbing supplement
that
helps turn my life into a joke instead of
something I have to
try and
make sense out of
.
 

Dylan used to be my drug
.
W
hen I was with her
I
was
funnier
, c
razier
,
smarter and more creative
—this
person
it
felt
so effortless to be
.
Meeting her
last summer
was like
pulling on
a favorite
sweatshirt
, worn and smooth and familiar,
l
ike she
was
s
ewn for me
.
T
he seams of her
personality
align
ed
perfectly with mine
.
We meshed
.

T
hen why
, in her absence, do I change
?
Why do I go back to being
the
old
me
?
The one that judges everything, that sees the world through
cynical eyes
?
Was I just faking
my way
throu
gh that whole summer
with Dylan
?

Maybe it was never me all along.

Or
,
maybe
,
when you
meet the right person
,
it’s
like meeting a piece of yourself
that
you never knew
existed
because
somebody had to open it up for you
.
Pull it out of you
.
Point it out to you
.
Is it true you need another
person to be complete
?

Well, I know o
ne thing for sure
.
I won’t fall in love that easily again
.
The next time around I’m
going to be careful
.
I’m going to take it slow and
wait until the timing is perfect
.

No more heartache
.

It’s time to stop
mulling
over the past
.
I
need
to focus on the present
.
I’m going to

put one hundred percent of my
energy
into my friends,
roommates,
baseball, school, parents
—my life
.
Dylan gets
zero percent
.

That story is
over
.

F
inished
.

The e
nd
.

DYLAN

I
stretch out on the leather train seat and
sip
the thick
, rich
coffee Europe
’s famous for
.
I
open my
journal to a blank, white page
.
The paper
looks like a canvas
spread out
, waiting for me to
create a painting
with
words
.
Lately I’ve been thinking about
love because
it
charges me and
surrounds me
and I
crave it
,
follow it,
live
for
it
.
Love is the only d
rug that’s healthy to overdose o
n
.

Which brings me to my random thought
for the
day:

I think falling in love should come with a warning label
:
CAUTION—side e
ffects
may
include
sporadic singing in public
(
specifically
Celine Dion
covers),
emotional intoxication,
constant fool grinning, stomach
flipping, eye twinkling,
heart palpitations, sweaty hands, jittery feet
, lack of sleep
, giddiness,
deep
sighs of contentment, sexual fantasizing,
unc
ontrollable bouts of happiness
,
and
the need to help everyone else around you fall in love so they can experience
this blissful
state
.
Do not attempt to operate heavy machinery under the influence of
love, due
to lightheadedness and daydreaming.

I close my journal
and take a bite of a chocolate bar that’s
cold from sitting next to the drafty train window
.
Chocolate has
become my new best friend
.
It’s sweeter and creamier than chocolate in the U.S
.
Each bite is like dress
ing your mouth in sugary velvet
.
I
t’s almost as good as kiss
.
Maybe that’s why I crave it
—it’s
a
dietary supplement for
when I’m away from
Gray.